


Close Calls

by Sing



Category: Minority Report (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jumping the gun, Pre-Relationship, Romance, over emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lara has a frightening penchant for getting herself almost killed, the frequency with which Dash sees it and the times he must warn or intervene make him wonder if maybe Lara doesn't realize people care. </p><p>That he cares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Calls

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters. 
> 
> This is my first fanfic for this fandom so it might take me some time to get the tone right, but please leave your thoughts!

Lara is a grade A cop. Gets the job done, takes the risks, all of the chances and Dash can match her now, they've been working together long enough, or at least frequently enough that they've established a sort of synchronicity. Attuned to the others moves. But every now and again Lara will go off script, as she is wont to do---Blake hadn't been entirely wrong about her liking to colour outside the lines. 

Lara likes her odds in ninety percent of the situations they find themselves in, and what's vexing to Dash is; it's not like she's careless. 

It's not like Lara is incompetent or stupid or doesn't realize the potential for danger to herself. She's sure of herself but not cocky enough to think herself invincible. 

It's that Lara throws herself into work with a frightening reckless abandon that verges on martyrdom, and while Dash has argued enough with Arthur about his own tendency towards self sacrifice and discovery to help this out of the box cop, he dislikes that devil may care on Lara. It bothers him that he must shout to distract an assailant so she can finish them off---or else they'd have bashed her head in. Worries him that she doesn't account for the knife stashed in the culprits pocket after she pins them down. That she will race down an alley, hot on a trail, and Dash, startlingly sometimes left behind Sees her being shot too many times.

Bothers him immensely, that for the first time he's beginning to wonder if the danger he perceives Lara to be in, exists only in his head. Can't quite tell anymore if they're real visions or imagined. He has the same spasming horrible clenching of nerves in either case, but he keeps feeling the horror of 'almosts' even after they've succeeded. 

Tonight is another night in which Lara danced too closely with danger. He's still so shaken up about it, and she's so nonchalant, so "part of the job" so damn....'cool' he doesn't know how to tell her it isn't okay. HE isn't okay with this anymore. 

He's developed a sort of cold familiarity with strangers who die, people he couldn't save. And a satisfying relief from when they are able to help, but with Lara there is no relief, just an interlude until the next inevitable time that he will feel his heart seize and his mind freeze with the horror of something horrible, permanent, irreversible happening to her. 

He follows her into her apartment, and watches her moving around the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. He wants to say how scared he is sometimes for her. But words are not his strong suit, actions even worse, but they're slightly more reliable than what he might say. 

Besides by now Lara has batted aside his 'protective prattling' and it's time he changed tack. She finishes making coffee, sets a mug down before him and sashays down the hall to the washroom. He drinks his coffee slowly, mustering the nerve to do something that will be clear, succinct, enough maybe to make it clear that Lara can't give herself over to fighting the crime in the world as if no one would miss her, need her, cares for her. 

Like she doesn't belong with anyone and no one belongs with her. His mug is half finished when she comes back out, face cheery, ready to talk about the chase---she likes to do that, relive details---a horror that he would rather avoid----and perhaps veer off into talking about his complex relationship with his brother----again a horror that he would rather avoid----and he rises to his feet and approaches her.

She pauses in the hall, blinking at him, confused by him coming at her until he's right there, pinning her hands against the wall and his head is buried in her neck. Her heart hammers. "Uh, Dash?" she calls softly, completely caught off guard. He sidles closer to her and releases her hands so they fall on her waist, wedging between her back and the wall to wrap securely around her. "Dash---" she cuts off when he tightens his hold and her hands fall to his shoulders, his lips press to her neck, once, twice, tenderly. He doesn't say anything, just keeps nuzzling her and pecking her neck to her cheek. He's so gentle and sweet about it Lara is thrown. 

Had it been Blake or another man she'd know exactly what comes after this, a ravaging of her mouth, panting, busy, hungry, groping hands, ripped clothes and hitting the bed too hard and fast, hard, riding into the late night. 

But Dash is not any other man. And his gestures are not lustful and devouring so much as sweet and cherishing. She let's her eyes flutter closed because it's nice to be held like this. To be close. Close to Dash. Ah. 

"Dash?"

He pulls back to meet her eyes, face an innocent puzzle. Pink lips and kind eyes. She touches his face, leans in so their foreheads touch. "I'm safe, alright? we do a damn good job of staying alive, don't we?" she gives him her signature reassuring smile. "I'm not going anywhere. I understand you worry but you don't need to. I....I'll try to do better. Honestly. Alright?" she leans back, pats his arms to let her go but he doesn't. She quirks a brow at him in inquiry. 

He shakes his head tightly. "I don't. Worry." he stresses. "I don't, fret." he licks his lips and leans in towards her, when she breathes their chests touch. "I care. There's a difference"

Her mouth opens to retort but Dash is already there with his gentle soft, careful kisses. 

Lara doesn't know what she expected. Doesn't know if she's shocked, really. They've been frighteningly, instantly close and involved in one another since day one, just both carefully dancing around the other. But still she's just a little surprised at the pleasure of it, the welcomed feeling of his lips on hers moving slowly and deliberately, trying to say the things that otherwise bumbling inarticulate Dash can't convey on his own. She kisses him back to show she hears him. 

That she's listening. 

And she hopes while they're kissing like this with such slow tender care, that he can somehow hear her. 

I care too, Dash. Just as much.


End file.
